As national concern over underage drinking and associated antisocial behaviour escalated, pressure mounted on alcopop manufacturers to tone down not only the alcoholic strength of their products but also their irresistible, teen-friendly sheen. At Beverage Brands, Joe Woods astutely judged that it was better to be seen helping the regulators than denying the obvious, and duly assisted the Portman Group in crafting an alcopop-aware code of practice. It was, however, a gesture that failed to deter the Advertising Standards Authority from banning some of WKD’s more exuberant TV campaigns as 'likely to appeal to under-18s'.
Reflecting in 2016 on two decades of alcopop evolution in Britain, Emily Robinson concluded that despite the Portman Group’s commendable efforts at self-regulation, the genie was already well out of the bottle:
"We're seeing the effects of the alcopops culture now among people in their 30s and 40s — the 'alcopops generation'. Admissions to hospital for alcoholic liver disease in the under-30s have increased by 112% over the past 10 years. We're seeing people dying from liver disease now in their twenties and thirties, which used to be completely unheard of."
A Jolt of X: Caffeine, Chaos and WKD’s Latest Trick
The stakes were raised in 2022 when SHS — by then WKD’s parent company — launched a turbo-charged variant aimed at a new hybrid market. Enter WKD X, a high-octane concoction that merged the playful fizz of the original alcopop with the eye-popping punch of an energy drink.
Available in two so-called 'flavours' (Blue and Gold — how abstractly evocative), WKD X brought with it a caffeine content of 30mg per 10cl. That figure placed it just beneath the notorious Buckfast Tonic Wine (37.5mg), but well above the global energy drink benchmark, Red Bull. The alcohol content was also boosted to 7% — loftier than most standard lagers.
SHS was unapologetic. According to its marketing team, WKD X was 'perfectly placed to bring a nationally recognised brand to the fledgling enhanced RTD category' — assuming 'enhanced' meant alarmingly high levels of both caffeine and booze. It was, in essence, a pre-mixed Buckfast starter kit for the eager novice.
Trade Panic, Regulatory Silence
While SHS insisted that WKD X offered a convenient format for a savvy generation already familiar with mixing vodka and energy drinks on the park bench, the trade press and public health commentators were less enthused. Headlines such as "Something wicked this way comes" abounded. Many asked whether a caffeinated-alcopop fusion wasn’t simply inviting a rehash of the public disorder panics of the late ’90s.
Other brands — notably Four Loko in the US and Dragon Soop in the UK — had already faced regulatory censure. The Federal Trade Commission’s David Vladeck didn’t mince words:
"There is good reason to believe that these caffeinated alcohol drinks pose significant risks to consumer health and safety... The high levels of caffeine work against the sedative effects of alcohol in what researchers describe as the 'wide awake drunk'."
In contrast, UK authorities merely observed an 'interaction' between caffeine and alcohol, but cited a lack of definitive data to act decisively. As journalist Jimmy Nicholls drily noted, that lack of will was both convenient and conspicuous.
Watchdogs Barking in the Dark
With regulators reluctant to step in, it was left to the independent sector to raise the alarm. The Drinkaware Trust warned:
"Energy drinks can mask the sedative effects of alcohol, making people less aware of how much they've had to drink."
The Portman Group echoed this:
"Alcohol is a depressant, and it is therefore irresponsible and misleading to market an alcoholic drink in a way which implies it will make the consumer feel more energetic, even if the stimulation effect is attributed to the energy component."
Scottish Labour MSP Dame Jackie Baillie called for a 15mg/100ml limit on caffeine in alcoholic drinks — half of WKD X’s content. SHS defended its product, insisting that caffeine content was clearly labelled and that its 500ml single-can format discouraged 'session drinking'. Few were convinced.
Matt Rees of UK agency Fiora put it bluntly:
"Packaging caffeinated alcohol in a way that appeals to the young just doesn't sound very healthy, and it doesn't sound very safe."
He added — perhaps accurately — that the notoriety might be exactly what SHS was after.
The Essex Girl and Her Electric Blue Sidekick
WKD’s cultural entanglements didn’t end with caffeine. By the late 1990s, it had become one of the most recognisable accessories of a new British stereotype: the Essex Girl.
Maria Ferguson’s 2019 play Essex Girl didn’t just mention WKD — it featured a full bottle of WKD Blue onstage. In a poignant monologue, she declares:
"I come from fake tans and miniskirts, white stilettos and highlights. Home of the chav, council estates, the BNP, and make-up caked onto skin that never needed it."
The character’s complexity cut through cliché — but the cultural shorthand was already embedded. Germaine Greer had, in 2001, offered her own unflinching portrait:
"The Essex girl is loud, vulgar and unashamed… she is anarchy on stilts."
When ITV’s The Only Way is Essex (TOWIE) launched in 2010, WKD didn’t just feature — it sponsored the show’s 2014 series. SHS clearly knew its core demographic.
The Pushback (and Pushchairs)
Inevitably, the caricature drew fire. Academic Dr Terri Simpkin saw the Essex Girl myth as coded misogyny — the demonisation of sexually confident working-class women. The Essex Women’s Advisory Group sought to reclaim the image, celebrating the actual achievements of Essex women.
Author Sarah Perry summed it up in 2023:
"The Essex girl has become a useful repository for a score of social anxieties... An affront to morality, and a threat to the values of sobriety, industry and obedience that prop up the ruling class."
Still Here, Still Blue
Yet despite all predictions of extinction, WKD endures. In 2021, on its 25th anniversary, SHS’s Marcus Freer told The Grocer:
"We’ve been written off so many times but keep coming back."
Back in 2005, analysts were already declaring the alcopop era over. One Mintel spokesperson observed:
"This is 'badge drinking'. The target audience is incredibly fickle. Once they see adults drinking it, they want something else."
And yet, here we are. In 2011, David Cameron bemoaned 'Broken Britain', a society of binge drinking and social chaos. And still: WKD X, TOWIE, Love Island — and that indigo bottle — are all very much alive.
Pandemic Pivots and Global Ambitions
WKD didn’t just survive; it thrived. Unlike Bacardi, SHS couldn’t afford slick relaunches — so it adapted in real time. “We’ve stayed relevant,” Freer admitted, “by listening to what 18 to 24-year-olds do.”
Sales surged during the Covid lockdowns, with revenue jumping 37.9% in 2020 to £42 million. Profit reached an impressive £11.7 million. WKD has since expanded into Canada, Hong Kong, Japan and the Irish Republic — and now eyes the US market.
Yesterday Torquay, today Tilbury… tomorrow Tacoma?
Next time: Resisting the Red Revolution: Watney’s Wants You
As Britain’s post-war optimism curdled into corporate consolidation, the nation’s brewers took up the mantra of “bigger is better” — and none bigger (or brasher) than Watney Mann. Armed with tanks of Watney’s Red and a marketing budget that could have launched a moon landing, they set about colonising the public house with kegged conformity.
Taste was optional. Resistance was futile. And somewhere in the middle of it all, Chairman Mao made a brief and baffling cameo.
Next week, we revisit the moment Britain stopped brewing and started broadcasting — and how one red fizz came to represent everything drinkers were about to regret.
From Another Round: A Post-War History of Britain… in Twelve Drinks
Dr Steven Parissien’s hotly anticipated new book out this September — as intoxicatingly insightful as the stories it uncorks. Available for presale here: https://tinyurl.com/AnotherRoundPresale